The Little Pink Blanket
by Splash123
Summary: Neville and Hannah watch their daughter grow up and fall in love. One-shot songfic. Sweet and fluffy. Show Neville and Hannah some love and read!


**A/N: I don't own anything recognizable. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, Carrie Underwood owns the song "All-American Girl." And yes, I know they're British. Pretend it says "All-British Girl." ;D**

_**The Pied Piper**_

_Since the day they got married_

_He'd be praying for a little baby boy_

_Someone he could take fishing_

_Throw the football and be his pride and joy_

_He could already see him holding that trophy_

_Taking his team to state_

Neville gently laid his hand on Hannah's eight-months-pregnant stomach. "So we agree? Marcus Franklin Longbottom?" Hannah had always loved the name Marcus, and Franklin, "Frank" was Neville's dad.

"Yeah, I like that. Presley Alice for a girl?" Presley was Hannah's mum and Alice was Neville's.

Neville nodded, even though he knew the baby wasn't going to be a girl. Of course she wasn't going to be a girl.

"How did your mum end up with that name again?" he asked.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Granddad was a pureblood and had never heard Muggle music. Grandmum was Muggleborn. There was this one American Muggle singer Grandmum loved—Elvis Presley. She insisted to Granddad that if the baby was a girl, she could name her Presley. If Mum had been a boy, she would have been Elvis."

Neville laughed. "_If_ it's a girl," (Hannah rolled her eyes at the _if_) "Should we give her a nickname? So she doesn't go around having to explain her name to everyone? I highly doubt many people have heard of this Elvis bloke."

Hannah laughed too. "I like that. Did your mum ever read you the story of the Pied Piper?"

"The what?"

"Muggle story. I thought maybe we could call her Piper, I always did like that story. Plus, then she has a name of her own. You know, a name of her very own, less to live up to."

Neville tried it out in his head. _Piper Longbottom._ "I like it," he said. "But you know it's completely redundant. That's Mark in there, not Piper."

Hannah smirked. "Whatever," she said, putting her notepad and quill on the nightstand and flicking off the lamp. Snuggling close to Neville, she was asleep in seconds.

Neville stayed awake for hours, lightly caressing the large bump that was his wife's stomach. He had never told Hannah why he was so sure it was Mark in there.

It was because he had done so badly for so long at Hogwarts: socially, academically, athletically. Sure, he'd done okay in a couple of battles, but anyone could have done that, really. (Whenever he voiced this to Hannah, she firmly disagreed, but he knew it was just luck.) This little boy, though, was going to be top of his class, Head Boy, Quidditch star, the whole works. He was going to be everything that Neville hadn't been.

_But when the nurse came in with a little pink blanket_

_All those big dreams changed_

_And now, he's wrapped around her finger_

_She's the center of his whole world_

_And his heart belongs to that_

_Sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect_

_All-American girl…_

"It's a girl!" the Healer shouted. Neville's blood went cold. A girl?

But this wasn't the plan!

Numbly, he performed a Severing Charm on the umbilical cord and watched as the Healer cleaned the baby's face off, checked a few things, and wrapped the baby in a nappy and a blanket. The Healer handed the squirming, crying bundle to Hannah, who also was squirming and crying, though hers were tears of joy.

Neville eased himself onto the corner of Hannah's bed and gazed at his wife and baby. The baby abruptly stopped crying and turned to Neville, her big brown eyes gazing right into his.

His heart melted. He knew right off that he wouldn't care if she could barely scrape A's in classes, if she couldn't tell a Quaffle from a Snitch, if she made no friends. She was his daughter, and he loved her anyway.

He extended a finger and lightly traced his daughter's cheek. "Hi there, Piper," he whispered. "I'm your daddy."

_Sixteen short years later_

_She was falling for the senior football star_

_Before you knew it, he was dropping passes_

_Skipping practice just to spend more time with her_

_The coach said, "Hey, son, what's your problem?_

_Tell me, have you lost your mind?"_

_Daddy said, "You'll lose your free ride to college._

_Boy, you better tell her goodbye!"_

_But now, he's wrapped around her finger_

_She's the center of his whole world_

_And his heart belongs to that_

_Sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect_

_All-American girl…_

It was rather irritating to watch James Potter doing so badly at Quidditch practices, and it wasn't because he was worried about winning the House Cup.

No, it was because he knew exactly where James's thoughts were, and they were on a girl named Presley Alice Longbottom, known as Piper. Piper's brother Mark found it annoying too, but that might have been more about the fact that he was worried about losing matches than overprotectiveness of his sister. (Neville had ended up having a son, but the second time around, he didn't care about the gender. Nor had he the third time, where he had gotten another daughter.)

Piper had grown up to have dark reddish-brown hair (mahogany, Hannah called it), inheirited from her paternal great-grandmother, who had had beautiful hair before she went gray. That should have been his first hint that she was going to fall for a Potter: Potter men loved redheads.

He sighed and remembered the note he had written the night he had discovered exactly why James had been doing so badly at Quidditch, as it was now protocol to inform parents of students' detentions:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Potter,  
I am writing to inform you of your son's detention. He was caught out of bounds tonight on a "date" with my daughter. I have resisted the urge to hex him into a thousand pieces and instead settled for giving them separate detentions.  
Sincerely,  
Professor Neville Longbottom

Gazing out the window, he watched James miss another pass and groaned. "Break her heart, and I will break your legs," he muttered darkly, before tearing himself from the window.

_And when they got married and decided to have one of their own,_

_She said, "Be honest, tell me what you want"_

_And he said, "Honey, you oughta know,_

_A sweet little, beautiful, one just like you_

_Oh, a beautiful, wonderful, perfect_

_All-American girl_

_Now, he's wrapped around her finger_

_She's the center of his whole world_

_And his heart belongs to that_

_Sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect_

_All-American girl_

_All-American girl_

He gripped Hannah's hand as they entered the small hospital room. James and Piper were lying on the twin bed, James's arm around his wife's shoulders, Piper's arms around a pink bundle.

Neville carefully approached the little family. He gazed into the baby's blue eyes, so like her father's.

"This is Madison Elisabeth Potter," Piper whispered.

Neville reached out a finger and traced the baby's cheek. "Hi there, Madison," he whispered. "I'm your granddad."

**Imperio! You shall leave a review…**


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